


Even When the Dark Comes Crashing Through (When you Need a Friend to Carry you)

by trashmouthtrash



Series: You Will Be Found, Jughead Jones. [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Child Abuse, Dear Evan Hansen au-ish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Featuring Jug as treeboi, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Oh and I made FP evil, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, That one where the Andrews adopt Juggie, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This isn't how you tag, What am I doing, Yep we're doing it again, You Will Be Found, because I'm a sucker for Jughead whump, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthtrash/pseuds/trashmouthtrash
Summary: Our favorite beanie-wearing teen has had enough. When FP's abuse reaches a whole new level of shitty, Jughead leaves with a bruised heart and a blood-stained beanie."Nothing takes the pain away better than a permanent solution," he tells himself as he leaps from the tree.Based partly on Dear Evan Hansen. (Okay, that's kind of a lie. I just stole lyrics, the tree idea, and way too many references.) I own nothing but the plot.TW for child abuse and suicide attempts. Apologies in advance, it may not be perfectly accurate.Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear?" ~DEH





	1. When You're Falling in a Forest (And There's Nobody Around)

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic ever! Buckle up, kids.  
> 

"Damn it, Jughead! Maybe I wouldn't be like this if you weren't so damn difficult!" The scathing insult was punctuated by a crash, the empty bottle beer hitting its beanie-clad target. Jughead gasped, his cut forehead burning and his vision blurring. But FP wasn't done. His previous statement had led to a drunken "realization" - see: decision - that Jughead was at fault for all of FP's problems. No sooner did Jughead lean down to retrieve his bloodstained beanie than was he being shoved against the wall, worn hands clutching him by the neck.

/Have you ever felt like nobody was there?/

Suddenly Jughead's thoughts were like freight trains, pummeling him faster and faster. FP had never gone this far before. A punch here and there was a regular occurrence – FP was severely lacking in the parenting department. But choking? Surely, FP was above that. He wouldn't hurt his own son like that, right? But it was getting harder and harder to breath and oh, god what if FP killed him? and hereallyneededair.

"You're the reason she left! She got sick and tired of your goddamn. Worthless. ASS!"

With each word, FP punched him in the stomach. Jughead's lips were turning blue and his vision going spotty as he clawed at his father's hand, weak but desperate. Then, "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" Jughead was thrown against the wall, sinking to the ground in a choking, teary heap. He gasped, throat aching. For a moment, he simply laid on the stained carpet, in too much pain and shock to move. Deep down, he knew this was the final straw he had feared. He couldn't stay there anymore.

/Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?/

He lifted his head just as FP turned to look at him, his eyes finally showing some sense of clarity, stark in comparison to the previous absence. Within them appeared those deep pools of guilt Jughead had come to know all too well. "Jughead, I'm so sorry, let me-"  
"NO. Don't touch me." His voice was raspy and he stumbled a bit on the way out - as if he were the one drunk - but Jughead made it, pride be damned, and suddenly he was standing in the cold with nothing but an aching body and a bloodstained beanie.

/Have you ever felt like you could disappear?/

He could go to Archie’s house, or even Betty’s. But he didn’t want to bother them, and they probably didn’t want him there anyway.

Jughead was tired, an ache permeating his bones, a pain replacing his heart.

He stumbled along aimlessly, clutching his aching ribs. Jughead tried not to think about what his father said, he really did. Some rational part of him knew there was no way his mother had left because of him.

Right?

Before he knew it, Jughead was climbing a tree, that old one at that park he and Archie went to all the time. Playing pirates or cowboys, those days of innocence now long gone. He studied it with dull disinterest and began to climb.

One foot, after the other. One branch, then to another. That was all he was now, a numb shell of a boy climbing a tree. 

When his sore body could take no more, Jughead took a seat on a branch. He looked down; he was easily forty feet up. In some corner of his mind, his detached lack of fear bothered him. He should be home, warm in bed, with a mom and a dad there to tuck him in. But why would life be that kind? 

Jughead figured he must have done something seriously shitty in his former life, because if this wasn’t punishment, he didn’t know what it was. He began rocking back and forth, slowly tempting fate with a feeble smirk. Just fall, he thought. It’ll be so much easier. You won’t have to deal with anything anymore, and they won’t have to deal with you.

This wasn’t a new thought. He’d been toying around with it for a while, at first abstractly but it quickly became an ironic lifeline. If it got bad enough, he could leave. To where, no one knows; anywhere had to be better than Riverdale.

Jughead lost track of time, swaying in the moonlight, as he battled with himself. What about Betty, and Archie? They’ll be crushed. No they won’t. They’ll be glad you’re gone.

When Jughead rose on shaky legs, balancing himself on the tree trunk, he sighed. No longer was he nervous – content would be a more accurate term. He was almost smiling as he leaped into the air. 

/Like you could fall, and no one would hear?/


	2. Do You Ever Really Crash, or Even Make a Sound?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /When you're falling in a forest, and there's nobody around.  
> Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound?/
> 
> Jughead wakes up to a too-white hospital room and a heavy heart. In the aftermath of his suicide attempt, he confronts the effects and (finally) confides in Betty. Fluff ensues (Bughead is endgame).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So... I haven't updated in forever and I feel terrible about it. More on that at the end. Anyway, this is what I call the aftermath scene: Jughead wakes up in the hospital and has to confront what happened. It's pretty fluffy and features Betty being the best girlfriend ever. I would recommend listening to either "You Will Be Found" or "Waving Through a Window" from Dear Evan Hansen while reading this chapter. Thank you all for your lovely comments - it warms my heart, and I needed that after 2x05!  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Sincerely, Me

When Jughead wakes, two things are clear: a steady beeping noise and an overwhelming sense of disappointment. It takes some effort to pry open his heavy eyelids. Jughead blinks, taking in the bright, too-white hospital room.

So he’d lived. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Jughead’s lethargic gaze shifted, landing on the room’s other occupant. Riverdale’s own Betty Cooper, her head resting on the edge of the hospital bed. Her hair was messy and her clothes rumpled; there were obvious tear tracks on her features. Jughead sighed.

It was at that moment that Jughead became aware of the sharp pain in his ribs. Surprised, he couldn’t help the shaky gasp that escaped his lips. So he hadn’t come away unscathed, he thought, suddenly noticing the white cast on his left wrist. Deciding to blame his sluggishness on the drugs he was presumably on, Jughead turned back toward Betty and gasped again.

Betty was sitting up, staring at Jughead with wide, glassy eyes. 

/Well, let that lonely feeling wash away/

“Jug,” she started, trailing off.

Jughead, for his part, was silent. For once, he was without a witty remark or sardonic comment, instead opting to avoid Betty’s gaze like the plague. Betty, of course, was having none of that.

“Jug, look at me,” She grabbed his hand, her tone gentle yet firm. Jughead paused for a moment - god, this was so embarrassing - before finally meeting Betty’s gaze with cautious eyes. The bed-ridden boy fell victim to his doubtful thoughts - Betty probably thought he was weak. Knowing Betty - sweet, kind Betty - she was probably just waiting for the right moment to break up with him.

Betty was taken aback by the look in Jughead’s eyes. He’d always had bags, but this was getting ridiculous, and he also had a painful-looking cut across his forehead. Those things, although concerning, weren’t what was really troubling Betty. No, it was the look in his eyes that was bothering her. Jughead’s gaze was not just tired, but haunted. He had the look of someone who’d seen terrible things; someone who had lost the will to go on. 

Honestly, it terrified Betty. After finding out what had happened - and getting over her disbelief - Betty had struggled to understand what could drive Jughead to try to kill himself. She knew his home life wasn’t great, and he wasn’t exactly popular in Riverdale, but surely it wasn’t bad enough for him to want to end his life. How long had Jughead been struggling, spiraling into despair? Worse, how had Betty not noticed?

“I’m sorry.” Jughead’s gravelly voice interrupted Betty’s internal dialogue. 

“What? What could you possibly be sorry for? I’m the one who didn’t even notice you struggling, I mean, I didn’t even-“

“Betts.” Jughead grabbed Betty’s clenched fists - when had that happened? - and softly unfurled them. “This isn’t your fault. I’m the one who flung myself from a tree. The small smirk that accompanied his words was weak, but still there. Jughead was still trying.

“Still, though. I should’ve noticed,” she murmured, combing through Jughead’s raven locks with her fingers. He coughed softly, suppressing a groan from the pressure it put on his aching ribs.

“Do you, uh, do you have any water?” 

She nodded and briskly handed him a bottle from her purse. As he reached for it, the movement moved his hospital gown, revealing a ring of hand-shaped bruises around his neck. Betty gasped, reaching up to gently trace them with her fingertips.

Jughead flinched and choked on the water. He coughed, the water dribbling down his front and coughs wracking his abused throat. Betty retracted her hand at a frantic, breakneck speed, dissolving into apologies.

“Oh my god, Jug, I’m so sorry, I-“ Jughead silenced her with a shaky hand, pausing to collect himself.

“No, it’s not you, I just…” The boy trailed off, looking far too tired for a boy his age, if you asked Betty. The two lapsed into an awkward silence. Betty determinedly tried to catch Jughead’s gaze, and Jughead determinedly looked away with a miserable sniff. Betty finally broke the silence; Jughead resigned himself to the interrogation that was sure to come, knowing Betty’s questioning couldn’t be avoided.

“Juggie… What are those bruises around your neck from? I know there’s a lot going on right now, but you’ve gotta talk to me. You can’t shut me out like this,” she pried with a voice that was soft, yet persistent. 

Jughead nodded. “Betty, there’s a lot about me that I haven’t told you, haven’t told anyone. And, uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it’s just, I…” Jughead was stammering, fearful of the effects of his next words. The display of insecurity was so unlike him, and Betty knew he was revealing a very private, vulnerable side of himself. What was so bad that it had her witty, untouchable Jughead struggling to talk about it?

“My dad, uh, isn’t winning Father of the Year anytime soon, as you know, and that isn’t new, but it’s just… gotten worse lately. Since my mom and Jelly left, FP’s been really angry and he’s… taken it out on me. It’s usually just verbal, he tries to mess with my head, but it gets physical sometimes. Just a couple hits, here and there, he’s given me a few c-cigarette burns… and, I mean, it’s my fault most of the time, he’s j-just…” By the end, Jughead is stuttering and his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. His sarcastic facade had fallen; lying before Betty was just a boy, an innocent boy, who’d been hurt far too many times. 

Betty was rubbing soothing circles on the palms of Jughead’s shaking hands. She fought to repress tears of her own - she had to be strong for Jughead, but her boyfriend’s words had unleashed in her brain an enigma of emotions, questions without answers. FP had been abusing Jughead and Betty should’ve noticed, should’ve done something. It didn’t matter how Jughead was a master of pretending he was fine; Betty was supposed to be there for him, and the guilt was crushing her. 

Never mind all that, however. Jughead was looking at her with a look of uncertainty, vulnerable anxiety written plainly across his usually guarded features. Betty could deal with her regret later - Jughead needed her. She may not have been there before, but she sure as hell wasn’t letting history repeat itself. Betty managed a comforting smile - a small one, but there nonetheless - and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. Jughead gingerly inched to the side in a painful and primarily fruitless attempt to give her more room. The size of the hospital bed didn’t matter, though, because Betty and Jughead fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle. 

/Maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay/

Betty didn't want to further pain the abused boy, but there was one question she had a feeling she didn't want to know the answer to. The detective in her prevailed, however, and she took a deep breath. "Jug, those marks on your neck... did FP do that to you?" All she could think was -please, don't be what I think it is-

Betty's silent prayer went unanswered as Jughead nodded. Betty wanted to throw up.

"He, uh, got drunk yesterday. Completely wasted. Combine that with his belief that I am the reason my mom left, and you've got a 'Let's Beat Up Jughead' sundae." A small smirk had returned to his tired features. Betty, however, was horrified.

"He choked you?" Jughead nodded solemnly. 

"I guess I should tell you what happened yesterday," Jughead began warily, testing Betty's reaction. Seeing her nod of affirmation, he continued. "I got home yesterday, my dad was hammered, and he yelled at me. He, uh, threw a bottle at me," Jughead gestured to the now-stitched gash on his forehead, "And held me up against the wall. My feet couldn't reach the floor and I couldn't breathe, and I was so fucking scared, Betty." Jughead looked at Betty, his eyes full of tenderness and candor. "Then he just roughed me up a bit, you know, punches and kicks. He kinda sobered up afterwards, said he was sorry, but he does that every time. So, I walked out and uh, just kind of walked. Didn't have any place to be, really, so I just kind of walked. Soon enough I was at the base of that tree." He murmured. 

/‘Cause when you don’t feel strong enough to stand/

"You could've come to my place, Jug, or Archie's. Hell, even Veronica would've taken you in, and-" Betty could've continued, but she stopped herself, seeing as Jughead was already shaking his head. 

“I couldn’t load that on someone. Everyone’s got enough to deal with right now, no one wants to get into my issues.” The way he said it, like it was obvious that no one would care, broke Betty’s heart. 

“Of course we want to be there for you, Jug. Forget everything else; if you’re struggling, you need to come to us. It’s not like we would’ve turned you away.” Jughead nodded in false agreement -Betty was just saying that to make him feel better-

“Anyway, uh, I guess the rest is history. I climbed the tree, jumped, and… didn’t die, so…” At Betty’s incredulous look, Jughead continued. “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about… killing myself. When my mom and Jelly left, everything went downhill. My dad fell off the wagon, Archie blew off our road trip to be with Grundy, the football team got more physical. This was just, everything was just too much. I should’ve told you, I guess, but it was my problem to deal with. I kinda figured you’d have gotten sick of me by now.” The smirk on his face contradicted the vulnerable honesty of his words. Jughead legitimately thought she was going to tire of him, cut things off. He honestly couldn’t comprehend that Betty’s love for him was genuine, and Betty felt terrible.

“I’m so, so sorry, Juggie. I should’ve been there. But I’m not leaving anytime soon, okay? You’re stuck with me from now on,” she nudged him with a wry smile. “If everything gets to be too much, tell me. We’ll get through it together, okay?” Jughead nodded, murmuring a “thank you” and blinking heavily. “You’re probably, exhausted, I should go so you can sleep,” Betty said, beginning to rise. She stopped, however, feeling a tug on her wrist.

“Betty, will you… stay?” 

/You can reach, reach out your hand/

And just like that, they were Betty and Jughead again. They were bruised, not broken; wounded, but still very much alive. Their love was as steady as the beeping of Jughead’s heart monitor.

Well, maybe Jughead’s heart monitor wasn't the best comparison. Because they’re love was steady; it didn’t suddenly drop from a steady beeping to a screeching whine. Their love, unlike Jughead’s heart monitor, didn’t jar Betty from her sleep as a flurry of medical staff swarmed around her boyfriend, whose heart had suddenly lost its beat.

/And oh, someone will coming running  
And I know, they’ll take you home/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I'm not entirely sorry for that cliffhanger. But rest assured - there will be another chapter. I'm terrible at updating, so my deepest apologies, but I do plan on continuing this story! Thank you all so much for the kind comments.  
> On another topic... Has anyone seen 2x05??????? Because I don't want to spoil anything, but that episode killed me! Jughead's face when Archie told him about Betty.... GAH I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS!  
> Anyway, thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Let me know down in the comments.  
> Cheers!


End file.
